*Small explanation. This is not me ranting to the internet. This was supposed to be the monologue of a character that will never make it into a book of mine. Maybe that's what makes it all the more sadder.*

Maybe one day I'll come back to this page, wondering what I was thinking. What was I writing about back then, what ideas created this? But right now it's me, writing because I can. Doing this because I felt like it. Because I can. Now is not the time to worry about grammar and spelling. I've time to kill and words to write, even if they're not good.

Maybe someday long from now, someone will read this page, and wonder who I am. I am not putting my name on this, because I didn't write this from them, I wrote it for me. Right now, I have no one to comfort me, so I don't think I'm heartless when I say that I couldn't care less about explaining this to you. I am using this to comfort myself, to drag my thoughts away from the place that they find themselves drifting to, and while I don't care if you read this, this is for me. Because I need to rely on myself right now, because I need to be broken in order to be built stronger, and the only one that is able to glue back the broken pieces is me. You can try to comfort me, try to tell me what to do and how to do it, and you can even tell me what parts are broken. But no matter how hard you try, your glue doesn't stick as well as mine. It is not the same, only a temporary fix to a problem that will be permanent if I don't do something now.

I wish I knew why I feel this way. I could write down the reasons that I am upset, but not why it hurts this much. Am I overreacting? Have I become more soft with the coming of the new year? I wish I knew. Maybe if I knew what was causing it, then it would be easier to fix.

I've been full of maybes lately, and maybe I shouldn't be relying on them to explain the things I can't, but what else should I do. Without excuses, all I have are question marks, which feels even worse.

But then I laugh. I know it sounds strange, but within every bad day comes a moment where I laugh, and when I think back on it, sometimes it feels wrong. Like if I can be happy in that one moment, then am I really upset, or is this all made up? If I can be happy, then why can't I make it last. Is the sadness fake, is the happiness fake? Or am I the one that's faking? I wish I could say I'm sure, but I will have to add it to the list of wishes that will never be answered. Another sentence to be whispered after prayers to be ignored by whatever higher power exists. And maybe it is not the fear of my wishes never being answered that makes me continue to ask, but the fear that that power doesn't exist, because the moment I realize that is the moment that the thing I want the most in the world will cease to even seem realistic.